Chapter 2
ICE PRINCESS
PATIENCE
I’m a complete mess the second the plane hits the first bump at takeoff.
I close my eyes and grip the seat cushion.
My fingernails are on the verge of snapping from how tightly my hands are clenched.
And blood mixes in my mouth from biting my tongue so I wouldn’t squeak or scream as the plane jolted.
I hate flying, and I hope no one notices.
I’ve tried my best to keep my face angled to the window to mask my many expressions.
Thankfully, Jacob hasn’t said a word since our clipped introduction. After falling into his lap, I don’t need him to see me as more of a flustered mess.
I don’t need anyone seeing me like this.
Weak.
Vulnerable.
“Giving in to the fear means they can use it against you, Patience. Don’t let them.” My brother’s mantra plays on repeat.
He offered plenty of fucked-up advice growing up, and that was simply another piece.
I suppose it was helpful at times when getting through was the only objective.
His advice helped more often than not. But I also recognize that the things he said aren’t things that most people need to get through life.
We had it different.
The plane dips again, and even clenched teeth don’t bury the squeak this time.
“You know what helps me?” Jacob’s voice is muted through the blood coursing between my temples, so it takes me a moment to realize who he’s talking to.
I glance in his direction and find his green eyes fixed on mine. Unlike me, he’s the picture of relaxed. At some point, he stripped off his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his white button-down shirt, showing off every beautiful inch of his corded forearms.
This man is obnoxiously attractive.
“You’re scared of flying?” I hitch an eyebrow.
“No.” He grazes the back of his hand with his thumb. “But everyone has something that bothers them. Distractions help.”
Something about the emphasis he puts on something has my neck prickling. Is there anything that could rattle this man? I find that hard to believe.
“I’m fine.”
The plane dips again, and my back stiffens as my eyes screw shut.
“You sure about that?” His tone sounds almost mocking.
But when I peel my eyes open, I’m not met with anything more than indifference on his face. I shouldn’t be surprised. If anything, he’s probably wondering how he got stuck next to the college girl who is terrified of planes.
“You want to distract me?” I humor him. “What could possibly make me forget I’m currently sitting in a death trap forty-five thousand feet in the air? And don’t start with the lecture about how planes are safer than cars. I’ve heard that plenty, and it’s pointless.”
“Would facts about turtles be more interesting to you?”
My eyebrows scrunch. “Turtles?”
His gaze drops to my wrist, where a simple silver chain has a turtle charm dangling from it. “I’m assuming you like them.”
“Oh.” I fumble with my bracelet. “My brother gave this to me.”
“Does he like turtles?”
“It’s symbolic.” I twist my bracelet to hide the turtle.
Thankfully, he seems to take the hint. Or he’s bored and doesn’t care. He’s probably wondering how he’s roped himself into this conversation with some young girl when I’m sure he has an endless number of beautiful women his age who would happily give him their attention.
I settle back against my seat, grabbing the tip of my blonde ponytail and running my fingers through it as I smooth it in front of one of my shoulders. The plane jolts again, and my hands fly to the armrests.
“No turtles then.” Jacob rests his head back, clearly not dropping the conversation like I thought. “What about the average number of times a person walks past a murder in their lifetime without knowing about it?”
“If they don’t know about it, how could they come up with an average?” I challenge him.
He chuckles. “Average murders versus traffic in a given area.”
“Not all murders are hidden. Some are in plain sight. And how far from the dead body does the person have to be for it to be considered walking by?”
His eyebrow lifts. “I didn’t expect you to be so interested in murder.”
“Maybe I’m just interested in numbers. Statistics?
Or maybe I’m just challenging your point because I don’t see how any average would be reliable given all the variables.
” I shift in my seat, catching myself rambling again.
“Besides, you’re the one who brought up murder on a plane ride; you have no room to judge. ”
“I’m not judging.”
“I’m a criminal psychology major.” I bite my bottom lip, snagging his attention. “So it’s not creepy that I’m interested in murder, just for the record.”
“Once again, not judging.” Jacob smirks. “Seems you do that plenty on your own.”
My eyes narrow. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”
“I know.”
His response catches me off guard because there’s no hint he’s mocking me. His expression is flat.
How could he know nothing is wrong with me? Everyone else seems to think that there is.
I’m too harsh. Too judgmental.
I have too many sharp edges when the world would prefer me to be soft.
My mother tried to engrain that into me, but the harder she pushed, the more I resisted. I’d rather everyone hate me for holding my ground than bend to their will for even a second. Letting them see me weak is what they want.
Jacob clears his throat, and I realize I’m staring at his lips. How full they are. How the scruff on his jaw perfectly frames them. How everything about him is hard—from his muscles to his stare—but his lips seem soft.
And I need to stop thinking about them.
“What about how long a chicken can survive without its head?” Jacob asks.
“That’s disgusting.” My face puckers. “Besides, you don’t need to recite facts to me.”
“Would you prefer we talk about something else? Your favorite color, maybe?”
“You don’t have to entertain me.”
“Maybe I’m curious.” His smile tilts, drawing out the squareness of his strong jaw. The brush of stubble casts shadows, angling it farther.
“I doubt that.” I roll my eyes. “And even if you were, what if you’re just asking me these things because you have ulterior motives?”
“Like having a less boring flight to LA?”
“Like you being a serial killer trying to learn the details of my life so you can hunt me down and kill me later.”
He laughs. It’s deep and throaty and makes my ribs tight.
“Do you run into serial killers on planes often?”
My eyebrows furrow. “No. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t one. Anyone can be a serial killer, you know. Even someone like you. Especially someone like you, in fact.”
“Someone like me?”
I snap my mouth shut because I probably should not have said that.
“Please…” He leans back, a picture of relaxation. “Enlighten me, Patience. What about me screams serial killer?”
I glare at him and his ridiculous ego. Jacob wears his confidence like a second skin. It would be hot as hell if he weren’t so incredibly full of himself.
“You’re clearly successful. These seats cost a decent amount, so I’m guessing you have money.
” I skim my gaze over him. “But you’re understated about it.
No labels. No watch to indicate your wealth.
So you don’t want people to know the extent of your success, assuming you want them to know anything about you at all.
Everything from your plain black carry-on bag to your modest suit is unassuming. Oh, and you’re charming.”
“Am I?” He grins.
“Yes.” I roll my eyes. “And you know it. You wield it like a weapon.”
“Here you are back to assuming I’m dangerous.”
“If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be so defensive about it.”
“Or maybe I’m just the right amount of defensive.” Jacob leans in, barely maintaining the invisible barrier created between us by the armrest.
Close enough for me to breathe in a tease of his warm, apple-scented cologne.
How good it could be. Just one bite.
“You’re awfully jaded for being only…” His eyebrow pitches. “How old are you?”
“You’re not supposed to ask a lady her age.” My chin juts up.
But he doesn’t back down. He simply stares and waits for me to answer.
“Twenty.” My stare doesn’t falter, even if I feel him judging me for my age like everyone else does, because he has no idea what I’ve been through in those two decades.
“You’re awfully young to be this jaded.”
I glare. “Call me whatever you want. I’ve been called worse.”
“Such as?”
“Bitch. Coldhearted. Ice princess.”
His jaw works as he thinks about that. His green eyes hold my stare, shrinking the space in the plane with every second he refuses to look away.
“You don’t seem offended by any of those names.”
“Because I’m not.” I shrug a shoulder. “I don’t care what people think of me. They don’t know me.”
He hums, his gaze dropping to my lips as I press them together. “I think you do care, but you’re just good at not letting it show.”
“Are you a psychologist now?”
“Something like that.” He smirks, and I realize I know nothing about him, but he continues talking before I can ask what he does for a living. “They’re wrong about you, for the record.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Because you’re not cold at all, Patience. You just burn so hot that ice is all they feel before you reduce them to ashes.”
My tongue swells. My heart thunders.
Jacob’s green eyes focus on me, and I can’t hear anything other than my heartbeat between my temples.
I swallow, and it’s rough with how dry my mouth is all of a sudden. “You don’t know me.”
“Maybe not.” He leans back in his seat. “But I don’t think you know yourself any better.”
“That’s a bold statement coming from someone who met me less than an hour ago.”
He smirks. “You’d think that.”
My eyebrows pinch, and I open my mouth to speak as the flight attendant’s voice cuts through the plane, informing everyone that drink service is about to begin.
I glance out the window, realizing we must already be at cruising altitude, when I don’t even remember the ascent. My hands are no longer gripping the seat, and my spine is relaxed.
“Told you a distraction would help.” Jacob winks.
He instigated this conversation to distract me. He irritated and challenged me to the point I stopped noticing anything but him.
I meet his arrogant wink with a hard glare. Of course he assumes I’m a naive college girl, too enamored by his looks to see that he’s only doing this to feed his own ego.
“I didn’t need you to distract me.” I force my chin up.
“You’re welcome anyway.”
I turn back to the window, refusing to look at him again. It figures he’s just like any other man, thinking so highly of himself that he floats on a pedestal above us all.
Eventually, out of the corner of my eye, I spot Jacob pulling out headphones. We’re quiet the rest of the flight, but I don’t stop thinking about our conversation as I stare out at the clouds.
And when the plane finally lands and he walks away with no more than a nod of goodbye, I remind myself it’s better to keep my tongue as sharp as my defenses. Letting anyone be a distraction—much less a vulnerability—will only get me hurt.
They can think I’m a bitch.
Coldhearted.
An ice princess.
They can think whatever they want so long as they never see the truth.